Riften Hostage
by Xenonmon
Summary: Arris is a young man. A beggar. But, with the aid from The Companions, he is rescued and brought to his feet, but before his life can be completely changed for the better, it changes for the worst, in the worst way imaginable. Rated M for some language, sexual references and some gruesome scenes.


Arris scratched another tally on the prison wall, beside all the other tallies. Just another indication of the day past. He counted up each of the tallies, just as he did with every new one he added. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty. He counted past fifty, then one hundred. And, in a matter of time, he counted past three hundred. Then four hundred. When he finished, he had counted to nearly five hundred and fifty. Although Arris counted his days in prison every day, it still came as a shock to him. Every single time.

What was his crime, you might ask? Nothing, really. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You might think he'd have been framed. Oh no, it was much worse than that. When he was captured, Arris was minding his own business, at the Riften marketplace. He was admiring the jewellery Madesi had on display. Too bad he couldn't buy any. As a matter of fact, he couldn't buy much of anything. Being a poor beggar was hard on him, unusual due to his relatively young, ambitious age. Which makes it even stranger, the events to follow. While Arris was not the type to commit theft, he had no qualms about purchasing stolen goods, had the price been low enough. But this was different. When Arris turned from Madesi's marketplace stand, a strange man approached him, making promises of riches and wealth, so long as Arris followed him. Wasn't Brynjolf; he was smarter than that and wouldn't attempt to recruit a person such as Arris. No, this man was different. Arris had never seen him around Riften before. But; Arris, in his desperate situation, did not see any suspicion in the man, and followed him. "Where are you taking me?" Arris would ask, but the man wouldn't tell where, he'd only say that he had something for him. The man led Arris outside of the Riften city gates, past the guards and their watchtowers, and finally, into some bushes. That was weird - if someone making such audacious promises were really truthful of them, they most certainly wouldn't lead Arris into the bushes, now would they? No, of course not. It was a set up. Once Arris was far from any prying eyes, he was suddenly grabbed from behind. He was quickly bound and gagged, and a dark sack placed over his head. His muffled cries would prove useless. The arms grabbing each of his limbs were too powerful, as he was unable to struggle himself free.

Mere hours later, the sack was taken of Arris' head and he was face to face with bandits. In a filthy dungeon. In a small cell, barely enough for two people. "You'll fetch us a pretty penny." The bandit said to his face, undoing Arris' bindings. They were going to use him for ransom? Is that how low the bandits surrounding Riften have slipped? Was it the Thieves Guild? No, they're more well-kept. And wear better clothing. Anyhow, the rusted cell door was slammed in front of Arris and locked. No hope of escape, there were no windows in the dungeon as far as Arris could tell. The cell was locked up tighter than the Thalmor Embassy. Days, and eventually months passed. Arris figured that the ransom note had been circulating Riften for so long, yet no one even cared. Figured as much, considering Arris had no friends or family left. They all either died of illness or went missing and never returned. Arris thought that he was one who went missing and never returned. But, no one cared to think about it. No one ever thinks of the beggars on the streets. Arris wasn't even friendly towards Edda or Snilf, two fellow beggars in Riften. One and a half years later, Arris wondered how they were doing, or if they were even alive.

Arris sat in his cell, contemplating death. He had been imprisoned in a dungeon overridden with bandits, skeevers and the overpowering odour of rotting flesh for over a year and a half now, with no hope of release. The same bandits who captured him that time ago have almost certainly forgotten about the ransom as no one cared enough to respond to it. Mjoll, a woman with a great hatred of Maven Black-Briar was the only person who did nice things to Arris, and even she did not care enough to find Arris. Arris was even more desperate now than he was when he was begging in Riften. Unfortunately, he had no means of killing himself. He had no forks nor knives and no way of poisoning himself. He had no will to starve himself of the food he got every now and then. He had no way of releasing himself from the living hell he was in.

Arris heard footsteps. His heart jumped, and he cowered at the back of his tiny cell. He knew who it was, and why they were coming. It was one of the bandits occupying the fort. He had a nasty look on his face as he unlocked the cell. Arris began to quiver in great fear, for he knew what would happen next. The bandit swung the cell door wide open with such force Arris thought it would've come off the hinges.

"Alright you little whore. Off your feet!" The Redguard bandit reached in and grabbed his arm close to his shoulder and forced him up, nearly dislocating his arm. The bandit yanked Arris forward and out of the cell, down the dungeon hall and up a set of stairs. The bandit forced him into the main foyer of the fort, and into the main dining area, where a few of the bandits were eating roast meat and drinking Honningbrew mead.

Arris' face cleared of all colour when the four bandits cheered and dropped everything they had. Not this hell again. The bandits stripped him of all his ragged clothing and raped and beat him mercilessly, hitting him with metal, hot from the fire, beating him with fists and kicking him. They threw him on the floor numerous times, each time kicking and raping him more. The bruises from yesterday's torture session hadn't even had a chance to subside in pain when the bandits inflicted more bruises. The bandits prodded him with hot rocks and burnt lines into his skin. Arris was finally slipping into and out of consciousness as the torture wore on. Finally, it all went black.

In a matter of what seemed to be seconds, Arris awoke again in his cell, with fresh clothing. Agnis was in the cell, wiping a wet cloth across his forehead. She was a light at the tunnel's end, occasionally treating Arris to a extra food and water, clean clothing and on rare occasions, a sweetroll. The food she often brought Arris was better than the standard fare of bread, sometimes being roasted rabbit or grilled salmon. It was always delicious. But she almost never spoke to Arris, as she was not allowed into the fort's dungeons. She pressed the cold cloth to burns on his back and cleaned more blood off his face. Then, she quickly and quietly left, leaving him with a bucket of clean water and some extra bread. Arris propped himself up completely and devoured the bread in a heartbeat and swallowed half of the bucket's water. He sat in silence on the cell floor, listening. He heard the bandits laughing a distance away, glad it was quiet and not approaching. Arris fell back onto his sleeping pad and fell asleep nearly instantly.

Arris was back in Riften, begging for food or coins. It was stormy out, and much more crowded than usual. He realized that people were taking his few belongings, all his coins and even his last piece of bread. He then began crying, feeling an extreme hunger that he imagined could not be satisfied by all the food in the world. He tried getting up, but felt like he was being forced back down again, by some invisible force. He looked around, at faces he didn't recognize. No one looked back. But suddenly, people started clearing, until there was no one left. He stood up and looked around. Riften was empty, no living being around. And then the weather cleared. It became sunny, and warm and quiet. Then, at Riften's north entrance, stood a person, a person he did not recognize. Arris began approaching them, but they faded away. Then, everything disappeared. It was an empty field of nothingness.

Arris woke suddenly. He was cold, having not covered himself with his sleeping pad's thin blankets. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, waiting for them to clear. Then, he spotted the strangest sight ever. It was one of the bandits, lying on the floor in the dungeon. Arris sat staring for a moment. As he became more alert, he noticed that the bandit was lying in a pool of blood. The bandit was dead. Arris' heart stopped. He listened, hearing only silence. Weird - it was never totally quiet. He waited. Arris drank more water from the bucket next to him and waited more. Hours passed, and Arris started feeling on edge, expecting the bandits to come in and torture him more. But, that moment never came. And, even still, it was totally silent. He stood up in his cell, looking through the bars. He looked at the other cells, and even though they were locked up tight, no one else occupied them. Arris felt a little sickly in his gut. It must've been trying to tell him something. More hours passed, and Arris fell asleep again, then waking the next day. Same thing - pure silence, and the same dead bandit in front of his cell.

Arris got an idea. Since the bandit had not moved from his previous position since the day he discovered him there, he assumed him to be totally dead, and slowly reached his arm between the cell bars so he could grab the bandit and drag him closer. The idea was to see if there were any keys on the bandit, and if there were, Arris would let himself out. But, the bandit was just barely too far, and Arris could not quite reach the bandit. He dared not cry out, for he feared the bandits would return.

Arris heard voices, voices coming closer to the dungeon. He quickly retracted his arm into the cell and began to panic again, as the bandits would surely kill him if they saw the dead body in front of Arris' cell. He laid down and pretended to be asleep, as the voices got closer, until they opened the dungeon's door. Then, they were completely audible. Arris listened closely.

"I looked everywhere. I didn't see it." The first voice, moderate and masculine, spoke. Arris didn't recognize the voice at all.

"You didn't check any of the cells?" The second one asked. This one was much more gruff than the first voice.

"There was no need to. They were all empty, except the one with the dead prisoner in it." Arris jumped. Dead prisoner? Was the man referring to him? Arris wasn't dead! Not at all! Perhaps, the man was there when Arris was sleeping? He sure did not see the bandit die.

"You should've checked anyways. Well, now that we're here, we can check." Arris listened as they began picking locks and opening the prison cells. He knew it would be a matter of minutes before they came to his cell, and saw Arris there, very much alive.

"Nope, empty. Move on." Arris' heart began racing as their footsteps and voices grew closer, and they opened cells that were closer to his cell. Arris knew that this could mean one of two things: Rescue, or death.

"Farkas, check that body over there. I don't remember searching his body after I killed him." Arris finally knew the name of the gruff voice. Farkas. Arris backed against the cell wall as the footsteps approached. He watched, petrified as the big, burly man crouched down and sifted through the bandit's pockets for various items. The man, apparently named Farkas still had not noticed Arris staring, thinking that his end was coming near. Farkas turned his head in Arris' direction, and his attention to the man behind him.

"Nothing." He turned again to get up, but stopped when he noticed Arris at the corner of his eye. Farkas turned again to look at Arris, who nearly stopped breathing. Arris thought that it was finally the end for him. He figured bounty hunters to be ruthless and greedy people who'd kill anyone to get their riches.

"Demarco, you said one of these cells had a dead body in it, did you not?" Farkas said to the man presumably named Demarco.

"Yeah, why?"

"This guy isn't dead." Farkas looked towards Demarco.

"What?!" Demarco rushed over, and suddenly, another man, just as big as Farkas appeared. Only differences between the two were hair colour; Farkas had brown hair, Demarco was blond. Both men were Nords.

"I thought you were dead. Had I not I would've released you." Demarco addressed Arris, who simply sat put against the wall, his nerves running frantic.

"He looks like he was beaten very regularly." Farkas suggested based on Arris' appearance. He was still bruised and cut from his last torture session. Farkas moved aside to allow Demarco to pick the cell's lock and free Arris. When the door was open, Arris didn't move. He didn't even speak.

"You're free now." Demarco said as he moved aside to allow Arris through, who still sat frozen and speechless. Was this really happening? Or was this a dream? Arris couldn't believe what was happening in front of him. But still, he remained skeptical and did not move.

"Did they beat you so much that you can't move anymore?" Farkas asked. Arris still did nothing but stare. Demarco finally entered the cell and Arris began panicking even more than he already was.

"By the gods, what did they do to you?" Demarco asked as he crouched in front of Arris. Arris was so startled that even his light blue eyes shook. His short black hair was beginning to dampen with sweat. Demarco finally grabbed Arris and he jumped, but this wasn't an angry grab that Arris was used to; it was calm and gentle and Demarco's grip on Arris' arm was light. He helped Arris to his feet, who slowly and wobbly stood. Demarco gently led Arris out of the cell, who limped the whole way. Arris didn't even realize that his right foot was in too much pain for him to apply pressure to. His whole body was too sore for him to focus directly on his injured foot. He still leaned on his left foot, however.

"Oh, would you look at that." Farkas grabbed a necklace from a crevice in the wall outside Arris' cell. "I found it. It can be returned to Ysolda." The necklace was gold, with a flawless amethyst in the centre.

"Let's go. I don't think he can walk." Farkas said, suggesting that Demarco should carry Arris out. Demarco shrugged and picked Arris up and threw him over his shoulder. Arris whelped. "Be careful!" Arris shouted. Farkas and Demarco with Arris over his shoulder left the dungeon and exited the fort. Arris never thought of how beautiful the daylight was before his illicit confinement, but this was the first time he had seen real daylight in over a year and a half. It was more beautiful than he had ever remembered. The cool air on his skin was refreshing and clear and lacked the dank sensation of the fort. The breeze on his face felt better than anything, and it alone could almost remedy the pain and injuries suffered at the hands of the barbaric bandits.

"What should we do about this little situation?" Demarco asked, clearly referring to Arris and his poor condition. Arris was badly bruised, scarred and burnt and very frail due to malnutrition. He couldn't even tell if any of his bones were broken or not. "He looks terrible."

"Bring him to the Temple of Kynareth. They can help him." Farkas replied, looking towards one of the big cities. Arris painfully attempted to crane his head around so he could see what Farkas and Demarco saw, and he was able to see a large city, guarded by walls with a big palace in the middle.

"Where are we?" Arris slowly and calmly asked.

"Near Whiterun. You were in Fort Greymoor. We'll take you to the Temple of Kynareth, they will help you recover." Demarco spoke, keeping one hand back on Arris to keep him from falling off his shoulder.

"Can you please carry me some other way? It hurts to breathe when you carry me like...this." Arris asked. Demarco and Farkas stopped, and Demarco put Arris on the ground, and turned his back to Arris as he stood awkwardly on the stone path. Demarco crouched down a little bit, to allow Arris to jump onto his back. Demarco carried Arris all the rest of the way to Whiterun on his back.

Upon entering Whiterun, Arris was astonished at how well-kept the city was. It was neat, clean and bright and inviting, much unlike Riften. He looked around, resting his chin lazily on Demarco's shoulder, at the houses and the shops. 'This is Whiterun. Just as I imagined it. Perfect.' Arris thought to himself. They passed through what Arris presumed to be the marketplace, and Farkas handed the necklace that he found in Fort Greymoor to the woman that must've been Ysolda. She was a very pretty Nord woman with tidy red hair and a blue dress. She gratuitously thanked Farkas and Demarco for returning her stolen necklace and paid Farkas some gold coins for it. Demarco and Farkas finally ascended a flight of stairs to where a beautiful tree stood in the middle of a circular path; people sat around it enjoying its beauty.

"I'll meet you at Jorrvaskr." Farkas departed from Demarco's side and ascended another flight of stairs to a building that looked like an upside down boat. Meanwhile, Demarco entered another building with Arris. Inside, were four fountains and sets of tables. A priestess approached Demarco.

"Danica, I assume you'll take care of him." Demarco put Arris on the floor and gently pushed him towards Danica. He stood feebly and clearly in pain. Danica knelt down and examined the injuries on Arris' face, neck and arms. She was shocked at how poor of a condition he was in.

"What happened to him?" She exclaimed, looking up at Demarco. Arris coyly avoided looking Danica in the eyes, slowly backing up closer to Demarco.

"We found him in Fort Greymoor. I believe he may have been beaten by bandits while imprisoned there. He couldn't walk here, he was too badly injured."

She stood up and carefully and calmly instructed Arris to lay down on one of the tables. She turned back to face Demarco. "I'll see what we can do. I'm surprised he's still alive." She looked back at Arris who lied on his back, looking at the ceiling. She turned back to Demarco. "Lately it seems that I am more of a nurse than a priestess, tending those who suffered, both in mind and body, from this terrible war. But I have not encountered such a case. So many injuries, inflicted not by battle, but by the will of others." Danica sighed. "Travel great Skyrim, and Kynareth travels with you." Demarco nodded, and left the temple.

Danica turned back to Arris who was now shivering on the table. Arris still had many open wounds, in some places, one could see the bone under the flesh. She began performing healing spells on Arris, who cringed when they were applied. "This could take a long time, but Kynareth will not allow you to suffer." Danica calmly spoke. "Now, child, tell me how this happened."

Arris took a deep breath. "Bandits. Kidnapped me so long ago. They tortured me almost every day. I don't wish to speak about it."

"Alright, Child of Kynareth, just focus on healing." She stopped applying the healing spell, and walked over to a room at the other end of the temple. She came back with two red vials. She opened the first one, and allowed Arris to drink from it. He coughed when the liquid first touched his throat, but he finished it. The second red vial, Danica used to pour on some of his open wounds, to aid in the healing process. As she did, the flesh slowly began rebuilding itself, a process that was more of a nuisance to Arris than anything else. When she used both vials, she replaced them in the room, then returned to Arris.

"I must rest, but my fellow priest, Acolyte Jenssen will be with you. You may speak to him if you need anything. Please, don't leave, you must stay here for a few days as your condition improves. May the grace of Kynareth be with you." She then walked off into the room at the other side of the temple. In the mean time, Arris took the opportunity to think. He couldn't believe that he was no longer cooped up in that gods forsaken fort. It was difficult to fathom for him because he was there for so long. It was hard to believe that he would no longer receive daily torture, and he was thankful for that. But he feared it would happen again. Arris did not want to sleep, as the thought of opening his eyes again to find himself in the cell again was horrifying.

Acolyte Jenssen came to Arris' side, and like Danica a few minutes before, he applied the same healing spell on Arris, making him cringe in response to the feeling of it. The spell significantly dulled the pain, but some of the wounds were still there. It allowed Arris to finally relax for the first time in more than a year.

Arris never had an easy life. He grew up never knowing his parents, having died only a year into his life. He was cared for by friends of parents, cousins and aunts and uncles, being passed around people. As time passed, he lost more and more relatives to illness. Some simply vanished. When Arris was of seven years, he finally had no one left, and was left to the cruel Honorhall Orphanage. A single child, he had no siblings with him, and all his cousins had left. It was up to the horrid Grelod the Kind to raise him. She made his childhood a miserable, living hell, giving regular beatings and made Arris' fellow orphans feel worthless. She never allowed any of the children to be adopted, she never allowed them to leave the orphanage and she fed the children poorly. When Arris reached his thirteenth birthday, Grelod booted him from the orphanage, and to him, it was the best thing she had ever done to him, but he worried for the other children, but he never saw them, or heard from them ever again.

Living on the streets of Riften was difficult. Not having to put up with Grelod's abuse was a definite upside, but that meant that it was now more difficult to buy food and he now had to sleep in poor quality accommodation, a small, dirty slum in Riften's canals. It was home, but Arris got sick quite often. Fortunately, a woman who went by the name of Mjoll the Lioness, would provide him with coins, food and potions and medicines. But begging was never fun, it was hard, especially sitting in the rain or the cold. Arris knew he had to do it, or he'd starve.

Arris awoke the next morning inside the temple, having not moved from his initial position. When he awoke, he found that neither Danica nor Acolyte were at his side, they were most probably in the room to the rear of the temple. Arris propped his head up to look around. He first examined his own body, to find many of his injuries and bruises gone or almost gone. He examined the temple. The ceiling was garnished with flowers, vines and leaves, bordering the high atrium in the centre of the ceiling, which was open and allowed lots of light in. The floor in the temple's centre was divided into four separate shallow pools of water. The sound inside the temple was quiet, with the exception of birds chirping and the calm flow of water. The inside of the temple was quaint, and tranquil, as to be expected within the temple of a respected divine.

Arris tried to get up, but as he did, Danica came quickly out of the room at the rear of the temple. "Please, rest." Arris did as told and lied back down. He looked around a little more. "You're not ready yet. You're healing faster than I initially anticipated, but we wish you to stay longer." Danica began to apply more healing spells on Arris, and he began healing further. As she did, Demarco entered the temple. Unlike yesterday, he was not wearing his steel plated armour, he was instead wearing an average outfit. What? Arris was confused. Why was he back? Did he forget something?

"Do you remember me?" Demarco asked Arris. Of course he remembered him. Arris, despite Demarco and Farkas rescuing him, wanted nothing to do with him. He didn't want anything to do with anyone. All faith in Men and Mer and the Beastfolk had been lost, and they could rot in Molag Bal's or Mehrunes Dagon's dominions for all he cared. Arris was bitter, and he didn't even realize it. Quite a result of his brutal life.

"What do you want?" Arris spoke with a metallic undertone in his voice.


End file.
